


Of Men and Music

by RoarkChronicles



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Idiots in Love, M/M, i'm terrible with tags, on love: eros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 13:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11738106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoarkChronicles/pseuds/RoarkChronicles
Summary: For over a decade now, The God of Love has been love-struck and visits Verona once a year during the Festival of the Summer Solstice.Is it even possible for Love to fall in love? When two souls come together, the music is heard from the rooftops.





	Of Men and Music

The deep twang of guitar strings filled the atmosphere of the rickety tavern. It was the week of the summer solstice and families from the humbler villages were gathering in the town for celebrations and the festival. As the crowds swelled, the tavern brimmed with a diverse abundance of folk. Laughter rang through the discussions of goods being traded and people catching up on word from other towns. The raven haired man in the back of the lounge, the one plucking a subdued melody on the guitar, he visited the town once a year. 

 

Only during the week of the solstice. 

 

He seldom shared conversation with anyone and would always vanish without a trace until the coming year. His honey-toned eyes wandered across the area, surveying the company. He then laid eyes on a familiar face. That same stare rolled after their eyes met. The dirty-blond easily made his way through the crowd, taking residence beside the brunet. An olive tanned hand stretched out and brushed the aged and battered mahogany of the instrument. This earned a swift glare from the one behind the guitar, the hand retracting as if it were about to be devoured.

 

The guitar meant a lot to the brunet man; he handcrafted the instrument himself, exploring the world to gather the proper pieces. Pouring hours into carving not simply the body but the symbolisms. Between the frets were painted red roses. When you looked at the head, neck, and sound hole from a distance, you could make out that it was in the shape of an arrow. The surface of the body was fashioned with features that wouldn’t make sense to most people; maple leaves, tulips, apples and some sort of strange knot design.

 

However, to the brunet musician behind the guitar, who was acquainted with the true value of the design, it was love. Many would oppose him in an instant, but love was the most dynamic force in the under the vast blue sky. Love caused peace and love made wars. 

 

> Love is the best and most beautiful thing in this world. It could not be purchased. It cannot be seen. It cannot be heard. It must be appreciated with the heart.
> 
>  
> 
> It can make you think like you are on top of the world. Weightless and free. You see colors you’ve never experienced before. Everything seems fresher, feels warmer. It can make the smartest people stupid. Love can be a marvelous bird in the heavens. Love can also be the most venomous snake around your ankle. It will provide you the breath of life and at the same hour, make you feel like you are drowning in the base of the sea.

 

A soft snickered drew the attention of the dirty-blond towards the guitarist. As his tanned fingers strummed gently over the strings, the man closed his eyes.

 

“Ven--- I suppose, Christophe would be correct while we are here… Did you know, people express love is blind?”

 

A sly smile crossed Christophe’s cheeks as he tipped back in his seat, he had just finished speaking with the barmaid when his companion began speaking.

 

“Oh! If only they knew.”

 

A wondrous melody began to fall from the strings of his guitar, dancing lightly over the roar of the tavern. Those around them started to quiet down, charmed with the song pieced together at the brunet’s fingertips.

 

“I’ve never had an arrow miss its mark. And if I were blind, could I carry out such a feat?”

 

Chris brought his elbows to rest on the arms of the old, rickety piece of furniture. He was certain this chair witnessed many bar brawls and ultimately survived to offer rest to many worn pilgrims.

 

“Yuuri.”

 

His voice was rough, building its tone from deep in his throat, and husky. Yuuri could see the attraction shiver down the spine of the barmaid as she returned with two drinks. Chris pushed the second one over to his colleague, raising his own glass to his lips.

 

“You are down here at the same time every year, coming to the same place…”

 

He tipped his pint and took a quick gulp, savoring the gracious brew of the summer. It was sweet, crisp and tart. It traveled down his throat smooth as honey. His glass hit the table with a heavy thud.

 

“Why do you come to Verona during the summer solstice?”

 

The song tuned down to just quick plucking over random strings, no noticeably connected tune carried through the air.

 

“For the booze, my close friend.”

 

As Yuuri glanced to the man beside him, he could see in that emerald enchanted gaze that Christophe didn’t believe an ounce of his story. A loud and drawn out sigh rolled of the brunet’s lips as he stopped his plucking. He picked up his own glass and took a lengthy taste of the cider, plainly trying to steer clear of the subject.

 

“Supposing that I told you…”

 

He eventually replied, setting his pint back on the old table.

 

“Then I would have to kill you, and then… You know… gods killing gods, it becomes messy…”

 

He ran his tanned fingers up the metal strings, happy at the feel beneath his fingertips.

 

“Oh! And then you know who would become furious, And, really, who could replace you? Things would get out of balance and such…”

 

A finger lifted up, causing Yuuri to pause mid-thought.

 

“You have been visiting this ever-developing city for a little longer than a decade, and that is the bullshit you serve me.”

 

A mischievous grin crossed the brunet’s lips, from cheek to cheek. He couldn’t help but snicker at his company’s response.

 

“You’ll have to hang around for few hours after the sun sets to learn why I am here.”

 

A loud groan escaped from deep in Christophe’s throat before he lifted up his hand, signaling over one of the barmaids. 

 

“You are fortunate that I am exceedingly curious and that…”

 

The dirty-blond trailed off as one of the lovely barmaids approached. He reached out an olive tanned hand, grasping hers in his own and pulling her near. He spoke softly in her ear and a scarlet blush crossed her fair cheeks before she disappeared.

 

“There are some lovely patrons of this saloon to fill my time.”

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes as he absentmindedly plucked at the strings of his guitar.

 

“Why am I not at all surprised?”

 

A pearly smile was the acknowledgment that Yuuri gained as drinks were placed on the table before Chris and the barmaid vanished into the crowd. The brunet continued to nurse the drink in front of him, his honey-colored gaze fixated on the entrance every few moments. He never could comprehend why Aphrodite would jealous of mortals. They are such charming and fascinating creatures. However, when Yuuri thought of them as beautiful, he spoke of the colors of their souls. Bright and shining, no spirit shared the same color.

 

A sigh left Yuuri’s lips as he once more glanced at the entry and immediately his breath was caught in his throat.

 

Wandering through the doorway was one of beauty unparalleled. The exact mortal that made the God of love and beauty jealous. 

 

The brunet laughed as he reflected back to when Aphrodite approached him. Furious and brushing back his long golden hair.

 

He had never seen anyone brush their hair so angrily. 

* * *

“EROS! can you believe it?!”

 

The brunet had drifted into the room, taking a seat on the bed. The wooden brush slammed onto the vanity table with a sickening crack.

 

“The mortals down there. They haven't visited me in a month! A MONTH EROS.”

 

A laugh drew the livid emerald gaze towards him. The other God just continued giggling, twirling an arrow between his fingers.

 

“First off, Aphrodite. They don't visit you, they visit an altar they built for you.”

 

Growling, Aphrodite turned his attention back to the vanity.

 

“They are deserting me, Their beautiful Goddess, to fawn over another mortal.”

 

Abruptly, Aphrodite whipped back around, pale hands clutching the marble vanity as his stare burned into the brunet God.

 

“You have to bring an end to this for me. I need you to make this thief fall in love with someone disgusting and horrible and ugly. Repulsive and grotesque.”

* * *

It's been over ten years since the childish goddess asked that of him. After half a year, the men stopped worshipping their human idol and returned to honoring the blond.

 

Eros, though, was smitten. The antagonist that the goddess had selected for himself was truly one who was other worldly. He vacantly strummed at his instrument, distracting himself until a hand settled on his table. 

 

Yuuri immediately recognized who it belonged to.

 

“I notice you here every year and yet, no one knows who you are or where you come from.”

 

His heart was drumming louder than the strings he was picking at. The brunet was extremely receptive to his surroundings at the moment, driving the rosy flush that tried to paint his cheeks back. The one who addressed him slipped into the chair beside him. 

 

They twisted a pale finger into the long, silvery locks that spilled over their shoulder.

 

“You’re guitar is beautiful…”

 

Yuuri drew in a sharp breath and finally raised his head. When their eyes met, the brunet felt like he was sinking in the high seas. Those turquoise hues pulled him in and under. The face they were framed by was angelic, it looked almost like porcelain that would shatter under his fingertips. He was so utterly captivated that he hadn’t realized he had been staring until the other let out a gentle cough, pulling the brunet back from his thoughts.

 

“My guitar doesn’t compare to you.”

 

Upon the awareness of what he just remarked, his expression grew dark red, and he rose to a stand. The sudden motion startled his companion, who had a pink blush spread across their cheeks now. The guitar slid around his shoulder with ease, now resting on his back as he made his way swiftly out of the tavern.

 

Once he was safe in the calm midnight air, he groaned aloud, gaining the attention of a few city dwellers who were roaming the night streets.

 

Shifting into the seat beside the confused platinum-blond, Chris leaned over and took one of the cups still on the table. A radiant smile crossed the man's face as he glanced at his new companion.

 

“Christophe! It has been far too long!”

 

They were engaged with a smile while the Chris took a sip of his reclaimed drink. The cider was better warm.

 

“How have you been Viktor?”

 

The two chatted back and forth until Viktor rested his head in his palms, elbows perched on the table. The sigh he breathed was weighted. This provoked an eyebrow to raise from Chris, notably now that he realized that his fellow god had gone missing.

 

“Viktor, you don’t happen to know where the patron who was previously sitting here went?”

 

That gemmed gaze drifted toward Chris and another sigh eased from his lips.

 

“You don’t mean the one who called me beautiful and soon after hurried away, do you?”

 

The dirty-blond almost choked on his liquor, shock cast over his face.

 

“I attempted to talk to him… I catch him here every year, sitting in the back of the tavern, strumming away at that well-loved guitar…”

 

Suddenly, the silver-haired fellow was leaning against Chris’s shoulder.

 

“Why did the Gods curse me like this? Why does my beauty push everyone away?”

 

Christophe couldn’t help the smirk that cracked on his face at the admittance.

 

“My dear, if only you knew…”

 

Viktor was quickly excited, fingers wrapped around the other’s hands.

 

“So you know who he is? What’s his name?”

 

The dirty-blond thought through his choices for a moment, drawing out the quiet and making Viktor anxious. He managed to snake a hand loose and tapped his finger on his nose.

 

“I have a thought.”

 

Chris bellowed a coarse, throaty laugh.

 

“Who knew love was so bashful.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you know anything about Greek Mythology, this is going to be a slight twist on the story of Eros and Psyche. And also how the song of On love: Eros was created.


End file.
